Nightmares
by Kei Tree
Summary: Ch 5 is up! They were banished centuries ago but the Sleeping Ones have awoken again and only the Five have any hope of defeating them... but the Five are centuries dust as well... arent they? Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply...LOL  
  
Umm...Names..I got bored with the same old, same old so I kinda changed   
them around. Its pretty obvious who's who... I just wanted to write   
something besides the same blasted ten names over and over and over...   
But here's a key for reference or whatever...  
  
Serena: Serenais  
Lita: Leinta  
Mina: Minka  
Rei: Rhi  
Ami: Aimes  
  
Darien: Darius  
Kunzite: Kunzath  
Zoicite: Zaite  
Nephrite: Nepran  
Jadite: Jadreth  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*Nightmares*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
The princess moaned in her fitful slumber and shifted,   
throwing the white silk sheets off her slim body. Blonde hair spilled   
across the bed in lakes of liquid gold as the Moon shone through the   
large bay windows in the bedroom, lighting the room in silver.   
Serenais sighed as she tossed, as her dreams of a hazy future that was   
bright, beautiful in a way that could only exist in her innocent mind,   
darkened and turned on her slumbering self. She cried out   
involuntarily, hands clenched so tightly her manicured nails bit   
deeply into pale palms. The Moon wavered before shining stronger,   
banishing the shadows that had crept into the room with a force that   
rivaled sunlight. Princess Serenais of Bleserd calmed slowly before   
slipping deeper into sleep. Her hands uncurled stiffly as the dreams,   
the nightmares, were lost to the benign darkness of true rest.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Leinta tossed in her sleep and woke with a start. She was   
covered with sweat and shaking. She had had nightmares before but   
never one with such intensity, such terror, such vagueness that she   
couldn't begin to remember it. Shivering she rose and padded on   
silent feet out of the tent she shared with her shield mate, lover,   
and best friend, Valan.   
  
There were still other warriors awake. Their guttering   
cooking fires dotted the mountain side that the Defensive Mounts   
inhabited during certain key months. Horses' tired nickers echoed   
around the camp and Leinta resisted the urge to slip out to the   
corrals and visit Japta. She would only upset him in the state of   
mind she was in.  
  
It was almost dawn besides. Leinta rubbed her arms briskly to   
ward off the slight chill of fall and sighed as her eyes were drawn to   
the distant horizon of their country, Bleserd, and its heart, its   
capital, Blanchant. She swallowed heavily and ducked back into the   
tent, out from under the night's sky, suddenly eager to feel Valan's   
strong arms around her lanky body, suddenly afraid of the change she   
felt riding on the wind.   
  
Varlan barely woke as she slid back under their shared   
blankets. He planted an absent minded kiss on the curve of her neck   
and pulled her closer. Leinta allowed it, even as she choked back   
unnamed, unexpected tears. Sleep did not find her again that night.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Minka let her last customer for the night out and locked the   
door behind him. She sighed and pulled on a robe made of fur and   
feathers. It was gaudy, but warm enough. She sat on the stool in   
front of her vanity mirror and sighed again as she stared at herself.   
She was beautiful enough, and that wasn't arrogance speaking, only   
truth, but she hated the cosmetics Malda insisted all 'her' girls   
wear.   
  
Minka reached for a cream and spread it over rouged lips,   
cheeks, before smearing it across heavily shadowed eyes. She rubbed   
hard with a cloth and scowled in distaste at the oily make up that   
came easily away. She reached back and undid her hair, letting coiled   
tresses fall free in a waterfall of platinum. Minka arranged the   
freed hair clips and cream and other various bottles of perfume and   
cosmetics on her dresser/mirror.   
  
Slender fingers hovered briefly over a simple ring she had   
forgotten to put away. Normally she hid it in one of the drawers   
during working hours. Minka started to touch the unadorned gold band;   
a ring set with a small chip of sapphire. She kept it to remind   
herself why she was in the business she was in, and to give her the   
anger she needed for strength. The ring had been her future... She   
swallowed.   
  
Minka understood metal. It was what it was. A ring was a   
ring. But the man who had given her the ring? Prince and scoundrel   
were apparently interchangeable personalities for men. She drew away   
from the ring and swallowed again before looking at the mirror. Had   
she ever been young enough, naïve enough, to accept such a promise on   
faith? Angry at herself Minka stood, whirled away from the dresser   
and The Ring.   
  
Whirled and gasped.  
  
Minka stumbled under the weight of darkness that fell upon her   
like stones, darkness and a terrible sense of purpose. She closed   
hard sapphire eyes and panted as she sunk lower to the floor, until   
only one knee supported her, and then nothing as she curled up into a   
ball, trembling from the sudden release from the blackness that had   
temporarily gripped her soul.   
  
She rose on unsteady legs and stumbled to her balcony doors.   
Minka threw them open and was greeted by the cool night air that was   
full of the smells of a large city; smoke, refuse, and a myriad of   
other assaults for the senses. She couldn't see the stars under the   
ever present cloud that hung low in the skies over Rosha, capital of   
Roshana, but she could sense them.   
  
One last tremor ran through Minka's curved body and,   
unsettled, she drew her flimsy robe closer, but did not enter her room   
again. She stayed on the balcony till dawn, needing with a longing   
that would not be denied, the gentle rays of dawn, but not even   
sunlight warmed her to her chilled bones.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Rhi flexed cramped fingers and rubbed tired, blood shot eyes.   
Her candle had burned too low again, and wax had melted all over the   
desk. Bourne would have a fit when he saw it, if he saw it. The   
reason she was in here at all was because Bourne wasn't competent   
enough to run a simple, well founded business. But then, she had   
chosen him, most specifically for that reason. Her mother had raised   
her to be loyal to no one but her people. Her father had taught her   
to think like a merchant, his legacy to her, and she had used that   
knowledge to carve a place for herself among nobility.  
  
A rare accomplishment indeed for the daughter of the Landless   
Ones. Her mother had been one of the Landless, a group of people who   
roamed from kingdom to kingdom, country to country, selling their   
services in magic, fortune telling, and entertainment. Her father had   
been a widowed merchant, king of a vast trading empire who was loathe   
to marry but desperate for a heir, any heir, even a woman. He had   
saved Rhi's mother's life on a whim, when a city guard in Rosha had   
taken a fancy to her. To repay her debt she had asked Rhi's father to   
name a price. He wanted a child.   
  
Her mother had agreed and on that night, twenty three years   
ago, Rhi had been conceived. But Landless did not bear unwanted   
children and Rhi, created under the bizarre circumstances that she   
was, was still cherished. She had spent the first eight years of her   
life traveling with her mother. On the eve of her ninth birth   
anniversary she had been deposited on the door step of her father's   
main house. Thus began her years of training to become more than a   
cultured woman, to become a lady.   
  
Rhi had done, did, all that was asked of her, first as a   
merchant's daughter, then as wife to one of a minor noble's second   
son. But she never forgot all that she had learned at her mother's   
knee. She fit in here, belonged here, among the privledged, but given   
the choice she would become Landless once more. Because that was who   
she was, at heart, at spirit.   
  
Yet... yet Fate was one mistress the Landless knew all too   
well, and Rhi knew, with uncanny, unfailing certainty, that this is   
where she had to be, here, where Destiny had guided her path. She   
reached for an ink pot, started to dip the quill in, and paused,   
foreshadowing making her hesitate. That was all the warning she   
received.  
  
Rhi doubled over in her chair and gasped; the pen clattered   
from numb, uncaring fingers to the desk where it rolled and knocked   
over the unsteady candle, putting the room into darkness as complete   
as the one laying siege to Rhi's soul. She panted for several minutes   
as the wave eased, ebbed, and disappeared, breathless, one hand   
clutched to her heart.   
  
Fate had made its next move.   
  
Rhi straightened in the darkness and fumbled around in the   
desk drawers for a minute before trembling fingers brushed against a   
box of matches. She lit one and stared at the flickering flame for an   
instant, unaware of the pallid orange it cast her dark features in, or   
of the red glints it added to her pale amethyst eyes. She swallowed   
and carefully re lit the candle.   
  
Re lit the candle and tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as   
the shadows fled from the unpredictable but heartening glow of the   
single, almost guttering candle.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Aimes smiled wearily as she deposited the squalling,   
screaming, red faced infant into her father's surprised arms. "It's a   
girl," she said softly. The fisherman, face aglow, tenderly touched   
his child's cheek, oblivious to the knowing smiles from the rest of   
the once anxiously waiting group composed of other men. Most of their   
wives were inside the cottage, making Slef as comfortable as possible   
after such a difficult birth.   
  
Aimes met the eyes of a few of the gathered men and returned   
their smiles. Most of them here tonight were veterans of multiple   
pregnancies. A few avoided her gaze, and the beautiful sight before   
them though. Aimes sighed. Life was cruel, unfair. She tried to do what   
she could but even with all she managed not everyone survived in a   
world meant for the strong. She could not boast that she had never   
lost a patient, she had, several times, but there was only so much one   
solitary girl could do on an island as isolated as Ocean's Love was.  
  
She was the only one on the ten mile island that knew any   
healing and even then it was only the basics... how to set a broken   
bone, how to nurse a fever, the finer points of being a midwife.   
Serious accidents usually ended in death. It was one of the risks of   
living in the rural countryside or in small, isolated communities. But   
every man, woman, and child who lived here wanted to live here. Those   
who did not belong on Ocean's Love soon left.  
  
The island was harsh, a rocky inhospitable place covered   
mainly with rocks and jetties, and littered with caves and coves. The   
little vegetation on the island was mostly wiry sea grass, a tough   
yellow plant that thrived on the sea air and damp, malnourished soil.   
Few trees survived sap-hood and those who grew to old age were   
twisted, warped, into things of terrifying beauty by the ocean's   
wind.   
  
But there *was* something beautiful, enduring, about the small   
stretch of land constantly fighting the cold, gray waters for life,   
for existence. Something that took hold of your soul and refused to   
let go. Something that would stay with you no matter where you   
traveled, or how far.   
  
Aimes wandered down a well worn path to the water's edge. She   
stood upon brittle sand, and crossed her arms over her breast as she   
stared at the distant horizon where false dawn was already painting   
the line that would separate the dark waters of the sea and the cold,   
empty sky. Subdued waves lapped at her feet and she slipped out of   
her sandals, shivering a bit as the frigid waters eagerly touched her   
skin.   
  
Darkness, bright, searing in its suddenness fell upon her   
unprotected mind and Aimes gasped as she fell, as the coldness of the   
ocean invaded her entire body as she thrashed in the shallows,   
instinctively fighting for control of her own traitorous body. It   
seemed like an eternity until the pain ended, before Aimes could rise,   
spluttering, trembling, from the sea, and stagger back to the beach   
where she lay, shaking.   
  
She managed to sit a long while later. She touched her head   
and winced as the sun streaked the suddenly bright sky gold and red   
and orange. Aimes coughed and bit one pale lip. She swallowed and   
closed cerulean eyes, afraid of what she had just experienced, and all   
that it might mean, all that it might change.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Prince Darius of Roshana clasped his father's dying hand in   
his own. His handsome face was carved still as a statue, seemingly   
serene in his acceptance in the ways of Fate but inside, inside, oh   
how he seethed! How he raged against the inevitable, against the   
wasting sickness that killed his father, his blood, helplessly, as he   
watched. But the world saw him for what he had to be, become, not a   
grieving son but heir, King. And Kings did not cry.   
  
"My son..." Darius choked back his tears and leaned down to   
hear his dying father's last whispered, pain filled words.   
  
"Yes, father..." He dared to use that title here only, when   
they were alone in King Trennan's private rooms.   
  
"The darkness... its coming..." Darius's grip tightened on   
his father's hand and he swallowed convulsively.   
  
"Father..." King Trennan coughed, a wracking cough that made   
Darius's soul ache in empathy. "Father?" Face pale Trennan continued   
doggedly.  
  
"The darkness Darius," he breathed shakily. "The darkness is   
coming..." Darius slid from his cushioned seat to kneel beside his   
father's bed and his withered form.   
  
"What... what darkness?" He had to ask but he knew... He   
KNEW. With dead certainty, with dead, terrifying certainty.   
Trennan's pale, red ringed eyes closed, as if heavy with the weight of   
the knowledge he bore.  
  
"The darkness of the Sleeping Ones my son. The Sleeping Ones   
are coming... Are awakening..." Darius bowed his head.  
  
"But father... the Sleeping Ones... They were only defeated   
with the help of the Five and that was hundreds of years ago... How   
can we hope to stand against them? They must be stronger now... Last   
time, even though we triumphed, destroyed half of the known world..."   
Trennan coughed again and Darius's own face blanched in response to   
his father's lingering agony.  
  
"The Five..." he coughed again. "The Five are eternal   
Darius... always remember that. Find them, they know their destiny.   
Find them, or we are all lost..." He coughed violently one last time,   
and with a shuddering sigh seemed to sink into himself. Darius   
grasped his father's hand tighter, until his knuckles whitened.   
  
"Father... Father!" and when that provided no response he   
tried the title that his father would answer until... until his   
death. "King Trennan! King Trennan..." Darius's voice broke away in   
a sob as he gathered and clutched his dead father to his breast and   
cried the last tears of a prince, for now he was king. And the   
darkness was coming.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kunzath stood at attention as his liege, lord, friend, and   
almost brother exited the royal apartments. Training allowed him to   
remain that way, stiff, unemotional, when Prince Darius came out, head   
bowed, tear tracks still visible, as if his red eyes wouldn't give him   
away anyway. He relaxed at Darius's weary nod.   
  
"He... he deserved peace Darius, after so much pain, so much   
responsibility." Prince Darius ignored his captain, his now general's   
attempts at solace. Hard, sorrowful sapphire met Kunzath's pale   
silver gaze for one forceful moment. Kunzath fell silent.   
  
"The darkness is coming. The Sleeping Ones are awakening. We   
have work to do if we want to save the world." Kunzath nodded and   
bowed deeply to the new king, face a carefully neutral mask.  
  
"Aye my lord, my King." Darius winced and Kunzath looked   
away, unsettled by Darius's weakness. Darius's very human weakness.   
The new king licked his lips in a nervous gesture Kunzath was familiar   
with.  
  
"See... see to the funeral arrangements and the public. Raise   
the army's standard. We'll need the troops ready soon." He paused   
and blinked. "What time of the day is it?" Kunzath coughed.  
  
"Its just now dawn my lord."   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Zaite cursed as he shoved the girl out of his tent. "Bloody   
hell! Get out! What were you thinking?!" Sharlene spluttered as she   
gathered her wadded clothes around her nude form in indignation.   
  
"I don't know Zaite... you sure sweet talked me last night...   
You know, before you bedded me." She raised her voice towards the end   
of her sentence and he winced.  
  
"Are you nuts Shar?" Sharlene sniffed and turned her nose   
up.  
  
"So asks you. The man who bedded me!" Zaite actually paled   
this time, paled and turned to run as a voice was raised in answer   
several tent columns over.   
  
"Zaite?! Sharlene?!" Sharlene smirked in satisfaction as   
Kolan, her lover and Zaite's equal ranked officer in the Roshana Army,   
lumbered through the rows of tents. And lumber was the right word for  
it. No one that big could simply walk. The giant caught sight of his   
woman, undressed, and Zaite, half dressed and distinctly panicked.   
Zaite took off at a dead run as Kolan's bellow of inarticulate rage   
woke all the men not already conscious.  
  
Zaite raced nimbly through the rows of tents, jumping lithely   
over tent poles, guttering cooking fires, men, women, and an   
assortment of animals like sleeping dogs and angry cats as Kolan   
jogged after him, his meaty face purple from anger.  
  
Zaite skidded to a halt though as one single, clear note of a   
bugle rose in a crescendo over the camp. Kolan stopped behind him,   
one large hand clasped on Zaite's shoulder. There was no lingering   
fury in his touch though. Personal business was left behind when that   
note rang. For that note called them to their duty, to battle, to   
war. Later, if there was a later, then he and Kolan would deal with   
whatever issues still lay between them. Now they became what Fate   
called them to be, soldiers, men who trusted each other implicitly   
because their bonds were forged in pain, in desperation, in blood.   
They were equals and they had jobs to do.   
  
"Assemble the men, I'll get our orders!" Kolan released   
Zaite's shoulder and nodded in mute agreement.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Nepran grinned ferally as he threw the dice down on the table   
with one practiced, smooth gesture. The grin, already wicked, turned   
into a smirk that only widened when one die landed on one, then   
another. Snake Eyes.   
  
The entire crowd surrounding the poker table let out one   
collective sigh of relief as Nepran gathered his earnings to his   
already large pile. The three other men at the table snorted in   
disgust and stood, as one, faces resigned. "That's it Nepran," Joson,   
a llama trader spat good naturedly enough, considering the sums of   
money he had lost that night, "We're all calling it a night, or a   
morning by the look of it." Nepran's mocking cobalt gaze flickered   
to the shuttered windows of the tavern, where the first few rays of   
dawn were streaking the nearest tables with stripes of pale pink and   
orange.   
  
"Are you sure boys?" he asked, with that same irritating grin,   
as he stood as well to shake his opponents' hands. All three men   
nodded emphatically as Joson spoke again for them, dryly.  
  
"Quite sure Nepran. Good sales..." Nepran echoed the   
sentiment and firmly grasped each trader's hand. Wishing them all   
well, and with a wave for Birk, the bartender and long time   
acquaintance, he gathered his winnings and made for the stable. He   
collected his own personal mount, a large roan who had carried him,   
through the best, and worst of times, named Freidan, before calling   
Stify.   
  
The small mutt came hurtling through the barn, barking a   
familiar and comforting welcome. Gathering the reins Nepran reached   
down and scratched the oversized ears as Stify wagged his wiry tail   
furiously, tongue lolling out. "Come on boys," he whispered to the   
dog and horse, "let's get our merchandise to Bleserd so we can make a   
profit."   
  
Nepran mounted in one smooth movement after leading Freidan   
outside of the barn, and leaned down from the saddle to open the gate   
to the pasture where his precious babies had spent the night.   
Stify barked excitedly as he raced through the open gate, small legs   
moving at a breakneck pace as he hurtled around the pasture, barking   
at his loudest to round up the sixty horses Nepran was taking to the   
outskirts of Bleserd to action off and sell.   
  
The horses, well used to the small dog's presence, obeyed, but   
calmly, more annoyed than frightened by the frenzied barking of the   
small white dog. Nepran smiled as his herd trotted out of the gate   
and automatically began on the road out of Roshana and into Bleserd.   
Not many herds the size of sixty could be driven, untied, across a   
country by a lone man and his dog but Nepran trained, and sold, only   
the very best. It was why he could demand the prices that he did, and   
why he was one of the few the infamous Defensive Mounts bought mounts   
from, which was exactly where he was going.   
  
He waved at Joson, who was driving his own herd of llamas out   
of a neighboring pasture, and called a command to Stify who   
immediately began to drive the horses down the left lane in the fork   
that branched directly outside the Lusty Wench. Nepran smiled as the   
herd followed Stify's guidance and he took up the rear. The sun   
peaked over the horizon.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jadreth laughed as the sea sprayed his rugged features with   
cold mist. He turned the wheel and marveled as the ship, his ship,   
obeyed his command. The sea was all around them, a vast thing of   
rolling gray. In the distance flying fish, flanked by dolphins, leapt   
out of their murky home and for one, brief instant, claimed the sky as   
theirs.  
  
It was a clear morning, not cloudless, but calm, empty. Few  
of the men were up this early but Jadreth reveled in it. In rising   
with the stars and beating dawn to the world. It was fanciful imagery   
to be sure, but it was a part of him, of every man who made the ocean   
his life. It got in your blood, in your heart, and clasped you to its   
breast more firmly than any lover, no matter how skilled. Being a   
sailor often meant early death but to die in the waves? To surrender   
your last breath to a mistress more bewitching than any mortal woman?   
Oh what a death! If you must die the only true death is the sea!   
  
Jadreth rocked back on appreciative heels as the sun's crown   
of gold rose from the sea, its main jewel that shining thing called a   
sun. Its light, still weak, lifted his spirit and warmed his cold,   
tanned skin. His smile widened, revealing even, white teeth. The   
smile faltered though as coldness crept along his back. Jadreth, who   
had been sailing towards the sun, and Roshana, shivered as forbidding   
stirred in his heart. He swallowed and cursed softly as the air   
behind him chilled still further. His hands unconsciously gripped the   
wheel, knuckles whitening as his back stiffened.   
  
Jadreth took a deep breath and turned away from the sun, mouth   
set in a grim line. His face, already set in an unmovable mask,   
paled. There, behind him, behind his ship, was darkness, and not the   
gentle darkness of night.   
  
The sea boiled where this malevolent darkness spilled, from the   
far away western horizon, and though still far away Jadreth could see   
that the blackness was pushed forward, across the ocean, towards him,   
on towards the lands beyond, with a grasping, desperate, vengeful   
reach. Creatures, blessedly unidentifiable at this distance, rode the   
front of the wave of darkness, and the light granted by dawn fled the   
touch of the unnatural wave that encompassed both land and air.   
  
He cursed violently, once, and wrenched himself away from the   
terrifying sight, before calling to his men, voice hoarse, trembling   
with suppressed fear. His men poured out from below deck, grumbling,   
murmuring, rubbing weary eyes. Their grumbling stopped abruptly as   
each man saw in turn what was hurtling towards them, unstoppable...   
death. One by one weathered faces paled and clenched hands tightened   
to fists. Jadreth allowed them one moment for composure's sake,   
nothing more, before barking commands.   
  
As one stunned men manned their stations and resolutely turned   
their backs to the darkness, even though none of them were capable of   
ignoring it. They quietly put all of their combined effort into the   
only thing that might save them, sailing as fast as they could to   
Roshana, to Bleserd, to the countries that had stopped the Sleeping   
Ones the last time they had awoken, hundreds upon hundreds of years   
ago.   
  
The darkness mocked their futile attempts to escape, mocked   
and pushed harder as it covered the miles that separated them, not   
just from Jadreth and his men, but from its ultimate goal, the place of   
its past defeat, and future triumph. The land that, once one, was now   
two, the countries of Bleserd and Roshana, where the cursed Five still   
lived, in some shape and form, waiting to be crushed. The Sleeping   
Ones laughed and the world, bowing before the nightmare, trembled.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Hi. I don't really have anything to say so...ummm....  
  
Hi.   
  
Bye. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply, go me for finishing something. =)  
Rated: PG-13 Email: inspiredthoughts@hotmail.com Site: http://www.geocities.com/keitree  
  
Names:  
Serena: Serenais  
Lita: Leinta  
Mina: Minka  
Rei: Rhi  
Ami: Aimes  
  
Darien: Darius  
Kunzite: Kunzath  
Zoicite: Zaite  
Nephrite: Nepran  
Jadite: Jadreth  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Nightmares Chapter 2 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
Jadreth stepped off the plank of his boat and onto the dock of   
Ocean's Love. He wanted to scream his warning to the people waiting   
to meet him but he refrained. That wasn't how things were done at Ocean's   
Love, even if the doom of the entire world was gathering strength just   
out of sight of the horizon, where he and his ship had finally out run   
it days ago.   
  
He smiled politely at the man who clasped his arm in a traditional   
show of friendship; Jadreth bowed and allowed a real smile to cloud   
the fear that had temporarily gripped his mind as he kissed the   
woman's hand. Her skin, smooth despite years of hard work, pale   
despite days in the sun, flushed under his lips. He straightened and   
greeted them both with words.  
  
"Mayor Brumer, Lady Aimes..." Aimes withdrew her hand and refused to   
let her gaze meet his squarely. Jadreth's smile grew despite himself.   
  
"Captain Jadreth," Brumer echoed in a friendly fashion.   
  
Aimes's faintly said "Captain," followed it. After another   
moment she raised cerulean to his cobalt and sighed.  
  
"Lady is a name for nobles Captain, not peasants." He raised   
platinum brows and shrugged, hard, fierce.   
"Lady is a title of honor and if I wish to grant it to you,   
  
then so be it. I owe you my life, twice over, and the lives of my men   
as well. Life debts are not easily repaid, especially when the   
heroine never requests, or asks for, my aide." She flushed again and   
Jadreth's smile grew to a smirk.   
  
Aimes was close to his heart, or as close as he allowed   
anyone. Ocean's Love was an ideal trade stop for ships from half of   
the known world. They dropped anchor here for many things, to find   
exotic items that the clever people of Ocean's Love bought at low   
prices from down on luck sailors. They also came when trouble hit and   
they needed supplies, fresh water, vegetables, or salted and easy to   
store food. The island was a bare, stubbornly obstinate sort of place   
but it was well off enough. Another commodity Ocean's Love traded in   
was healing services.   
  
Aimes was not a skilled healer, not like those who attended   
princes and Kings, but she had a solid basic training and she would   
heal anyone, pirate or rich merchant, and that was invaluable when   
injury and sickness hit at sea. Many sailors died from lack of the   
basic healing knowledge that Aimes possessed. She never demanded or   
asked for payment from her patients but Jadreth had seen her cottage,   
had seen some of the treasures grateful men had left their savior, and   
her island.   
  
Most of the women of Ocean's Love disappeared when a ship sunk   
anchor at their docks. Some stayed inside their homes, others went   
and combed the beaches at the deserted end of the island, for   
driftwood and crabs and clams. It was easier, safer that way. Ships   
and men from all countries, and classes, paused here in their journeys   
and it was usually best for all involved if women simply made   
themselves unavailable for the sea crazed men.   
  
Aimes of course was the exception. No one ever dared to lay a   
hand on her, or to speak out against her. One for fear of retaliation   
from the townspeople of Ocean's Love, two for the retaliation from   
their fellows, three from fear of retaliation from him. Jadreth was   
not famous, not by any stretch of imagination, but he was notorious to   
a certain extent, as an adventurer, as a skilled seaman, as an   
infallibly lucky captain. His peers respected him, or at least feared   
him, to an extent, and he had made sure that it was well known to no   
certain extent that the young healing woman on Ocean's Love was under   
his explicit protection. Not that Aimes needed it. Not that she   
asked him for it. But because, damn it, he owed her his life.  
  
Twice his men had brought him to this rocky, inhospitable   
place, so close to death not even one of those fancy royal healers   
could have saved him, and twice, twice Aimes had brought him back from   
that brink of the dark, eternal unknown. Had nursed him back to   
health with those pale sure hands of hers and had held a cup of   
lukewarm water to parched lips and convinced him that life was worth   
the fight. Had healed him with softly sung lullabies of the sea, had   
tempted him with thoughts of fame and treasure and the waiting arms of   
the gray rolling waves.  
  
She had done the same for hundreds of others, that Jadreth   
knew. But what mattered was that she had done it for him, and that   
she would do the same for any of his men. She was beautiful, in a   
fragile way that was striking, but it wasn't the beauty of her body   
that endeared her to him, it was the beauty of her soul. A tender   
beauty that could so easily be destroyed by the tide of unending   
darkness streaming towards them. Jadreth straightened and the two   
before him, sensing his change in moods, tensed.  
  
"This is not a scheduled stop Captain." Jadreth looked away   
from Aimes's unasked question before nodding sharply.  
  
"No... I... I come so that you may give warnings to those who   
might stop what... What I've seen. What's coming." He didn't speak   
the name, not yet, and Mayor Brumer waited expectantly for him to   
finish but Aimes... Aimes paled horribly and swayed, sapphire eyes   
wide. Her perfect lips formed a silent 'o' of horror and Brumer   
actually lent her a steadying arm as he watched his healer with   
alarm.  
  
"Aimes? Aimes, what's wrong..." Jadreth stepped forward and   
took her unresisting form from Brumer, held her slender frame up with   
strong arms and stared her in the face.  
  
"Aimes," he said in a severe, stern voice, "Aimes... do you   
know what's coming?" She cringed and a sigh was torn from unwilling   
lips, followed by a single word.  
  
"Darkness." She breathed it and Jadreth shivered at the   
intensity, at the multi meaning layers implied in that one simple   
word. Grimly now Jadreth echoed her sigh, and responded to her.  
  
"The Sleeping Ones." Brumer swallowed audibly but Jadreth and   
Aimes were beyond him now. Jadreth shook the girl slightly and she   
allowed it, shock by the realization that had just been pulled from   
her.  
  
"How did you know?" Jadreth demanded roughly, but not   
unkindly. She turned slightly panicked round eyes on him, drowned him   
in waves of azure, and through suddenly present tears answered, voice   
troubled, trembling, face more so.  
  
"I... I don't know."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"The messenger birds are over here," she said as she led him   
through the small village of Ocean's Love. "We keep them in old   
Samson's house. His son didn't want it when he died. Nelsoe moved   
inland. Wanted to become a farmer. Most of us were glad Samson   
didn't live to see it happen. It would have broken his heart. He   
loved Ocean's Love almost as much as he loved Dorla; Nelsoe deserting   
it would have killed him." Jadreth said nothing in response to her   
but padded silently behind, watching her with grave cobalt eyes. He   
waited until she opened the door to the cottage, until she stood in   
the doorway, to move forward swiftly.  
  
Jadreth blocked Aimes in the doorway, arms to either side of   
her. She looked at him, face serene, but he had seen her, known her   
long enough, to see the slight tremble in the stern lift of her chin,   
the weak fear that flashed in too solemn eyes. She was not afraid of   
him though. She knew him infinitely better than he could ever hope to   
know her, *that* Jadreth had always known and accepted. She knew she   
had nothing to fear from him, but from the brooding horror of the   
Sleeping Ones who lingered just beyond sight of Ocean's Love still?   
  
"How did you know Aimes?" There was that fear again, that   
brief moment of vulnerability on her normally impenetrable face. Fear   
and a flash of something else, of someone that wasn't entirely the   
girl who had saved him from the clutches of certain death. Jadreth   
reached up and cupped one flushed cheek with roughened hands. There   
was nothing but concern in his touch, concern and inquisitiveness, no   
deeper affection, no traces of lust. Not that Aimes wasn't   
beautiful. Not that Jadreth hadn't idly wondered what he would say if   
she had ever asked him to be hers, for a night, for a year, when the   
world ended. Perhaps it was ending. He shuddered and swallowed   
heavily, dropping his hand.  
  
"How?" he demanded. She said nothing in the face of his   
roughness and, angered beyond reason; he slammed one fist into the   
door's frame, next to her now too pale face.  
  
"Aimes... I saw death, as it was never meant to be... I saw   
evil... I saw darkness... I saw the Sleeping Ones. I saw them laugh   
as my ship out raced them, I saw... How Aimes? How could you   
possibly have known what's sitting there, on the horizon, blotting   
out the sun? I know there's something you're not telling me."  
  
"What of it?" she demanded herself, fiercely, breathlessly.   
"I don't answer because I don't understand Captain. It was as if the   
knowledge was buried deep within my traitorous breast and the moment I  
saw the words forming on your lips I knew, and had always known, what   
you were going to say. That the accursed Sleeping Ones would rise   
again. That they had risen. That they were coming again, now, for   
revenge, for triumph. I can't explain it damn it! I... I'm not sure   
I want to.   
  
"All I know is that they're heading towards Roshanna and   
Bleserd and that it is my duty, your duty, our duty, to warn them,   
before its too late." Jadreth, shamed, stepped aside and let the   
angry girl slip past him, into the cottage that served as a messenger   
pigeon house. Aimes took down a slim scrap of paper and printed two   
identical messages in a neat precise hand. Jadreth read the one   
message as Aimes took two cooing birds from a cage.  
  
'The Sleeping Ones are coming, for we have seen them.   
Prepare.' Jadreth looked up as Aimes took the messages from him and   
attached them to the birds' feet.  
  
"That's all you're going to say?" he asked, incredulous.   
Aimes laughed harshly and he followed her back outside, into weak   
sunlight, where she released both white birds in one swift movement.   
She looked at him, with that somber, beautiful gaze of hers, and   
replied simply to his question.  
  
"What more is to be said Captain? What more is to be done?   
The only ones who ever stood against the Sleeping Ones successfully   
were the Five and they are..."  
  
"Centuries dead," Jadreth whispered as he sagged into   
himself. "What can we do?" he wailed, feeling panic overcome him with   
the memories of the black wave, the dark nightmares he had seen.   
Aimes stepped forward and put one small hand on a broad shoulder.  
  
"The only thing we can," she said softly. Jadreth look at her  
with frightened eyes, eyes dark with emotion.  
  
"Pray?" he whispered bitterly. Aimes snorted.  
  
"No Captain, get your ship secured and your men settled for   
the night. I doubt you want to be sailing anywhere anytime soon.   
After that we'll think about praying. Come along." Jadreth allowed   
an unwilling smile to flit across his features and he stood   
straighter, taller, before looping one gentlemanly arm through   
Aimes's.   
  
"Yes healer," he replied obediently. Aimes flushed despite   
herself and Jadreth's grin grew.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
His men slept in various cottages that night. Ocean's Love   
hosted no inn, only a small tavern. The people were very   
accommodating, and Jadreth made sure to imprint quite firmly upon his   
men's minds that if they even so much as blinked at a woman, no matter   
what she promised, he would have their heads on sticks. They believed   
him, though many were too shaken by their brush with their almost   
terrible death that many wouldn't have visited a brothel had Jadreth   
opened his coffers and bought the place out for the night.  
  
He slept at Aimes's cottage, on the floor, on blankets she had   
wearily provided. None of the villagers had protested. They all knew   
the lengths Jadreth had gone through to try to even the debt between   
them. And besides, the times he had awoken, sick near death, he had   
spent weeks on the road to recovery in her house, with her by his   
side. Then he had slept in the room next to her own, on the only   
other bed in the house, one reserved strictly for patients. Jadreth   
hadn't asked for it, hadn't expected it, and didn't quite trust   
himself enough to sleep, fully well and able bodied, in the room next   
to Aimes.  
  
The next morning there was a reply by way of two messenger   
birds, one from Bleserd, one from Roshanna. Bleserd thanked them, in   
a scrawl that couldn't hide the writer's terror, and Roshanna's... It   
read simply 'The King is dead.' Jadreth paled as he read it, and the   
note dropped to the ground from numb fingers. Aimes touched his arm   
and he looked at her, unseeing.  
  
"How... How could Darius know that I was here?" Aimes laughed,  
bitter, before replying.  
  
"Who else could see the Sleeping Ones and live?"  
  
"But Trennan..."  
  
"Was a good man, but he won't be the first to die if the   
Sleeping Ones aren't defeated again. If Prince Darius is by himself   
he needs you. You're his cousin. You're a Prince." Angered suddenly   
by her words Jadreth grabbed and shook the slight woman before her, until   
aqua hair tumbled down and obscured too serene sapphire eyes.  
  
"*Was* a prince, Lady. I gave that title up years ago." Aimes   
sighed and touched Jadreth's cheek with the back of her cool palm in   
sympathy, without rancor for his moodiness. She ignored his sudden   
tears and Jadreth was grateful. Trennan had been Jadreth's only father...  
  
"You gave it up but that doesn't change the fact that it's a   
part of you. Prince Darius is a child; you and I both know that.   
Darius is a child and you are a King." Jadreth chuckled darkly.  
  
"I am no King." Aimes stepped away from him and titled her   
head, studying the strong man before her before laughing softly,   
darkly in return.  
  
"Fine then, you are no more King than I am Lady." Jadreth   
raised a sorrowful head and met her quiet gaze.  
  
"He... He needs me Aimes, and I can't say no but..." He   
turned and looked away from the ocean and towards the not quite   
visible land, shivering. He turned back to her.  
  
"I can't... I live for the sea Aimes. I can't abandon her   
and my men now, when I've seen the darkness coming."  
  
"But you can't abandon your people either Captain." He turned   
on her; more furious than before, fists clenched at his sides.  
  
"They're not my people! Not anymore!" Aimes laughed again   
and touched one fist with soft fingers, until he unclenched it.  
  
"One thing I've learned Captain," she said in mocking cool   
tones as she stroked the palm of his trembling hand, "is that once   
you've shouldered the burdens of responsibility then you can never   
totally be free of them. Go, find your cousin, help him, he needs you   
Captain." She paused and dropped his hand, face suddenly more somber   
than he had ever seen it.  
  
"I..." It was Aimes's turn to look away as she sighed from the   
depths of her complex soul. "I think I will accompany you."  
  
"Why, may I ask?" She shrugged and her face twisted from   
pained to slightly confused, confounded.  
  
"I... I don't quite know. It just... it just feels like I   
should." Jadreth bowed and brought her hands to his lips, relieved   
despite the prospect of being trapped on land, in the trappings of   
royalty.  
  
"Lady," he murmured quietly by way of response.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Frouth smiled ferally as he overlooked the boiling ocean below   
him. Roshanna and Bleserd weren't visible, not yet, but they would be   
soon, so soon that he could almost taste the victory waiting for them,   
a victory that had been waiting for centuries, for what seemed like   
millenniums.   
  
"Soon we will have vengeance, and triumph, won't we Frouth?"   
Frouth looked at his fellow King, Klarth, and chuckled dryly. "Aye,   
though I'm not near as eager as Tergan and Gerith." Klarth echoed his   
hollow laughter.  
  
"What else could you expect? I saw the hellion Tergan lost   
his kingdom to. She was a woman, you know that right?" Frouth barked   
more genuine amusement in response.  
  
"After all the years spent listening to him then we had better   
know every slightest detail about her. He will find her first I   
think. Lensan, Warrior Queen, that was a woman even we could admire,   
if we could ever get past her bow." Klarth grinned wildly.  
  
"And Gerith... I've never seen one so furious. Rorian taunted   
him like no one has dared then or since. Where ever, whoever Rorian   
is now he'll pay for his sharp words..."  
  
"And Verl..." Klarth swallowed at that, uneasily.  
  
"We shall triumph because of his leadership, for we shall   
never sleep again." They shared a silence for one long pregnant   
moment, the two men who were more than mortal, relics from a race, a   
life, and a primordial world before humanity. They had a human form   
that they maintained but you could tell, looking into flat eyes and   
watching hands with knotted fingers slightly too long that something   
else, something darker, more savage, lurked below their almost normal   
appearances.   
  
From the clouds of billowing darkness, all that remained of a   
once great kingdom that had spanned the breadth of the world, stepped   
a beast. It was vaguely dog like but there was nothing friendly about   
its fangs and gleaming crimson eyes. Frouth reached down and absently   
scratched a spiked head, fingers finding an itch behind one knobbed   
ear.  
  
"He shall find him for me Klarth." Klarth stared at Frouth   
with unblinking eyes.  
  
"Ameray." Frouth hissed.  
  
"Yes... I may not want revenge as badly as Tergan, Gerith,   
and Verl but Ameray was the worthiest opponent I have ever faced and   
over the millenniums I have learned one thing... Our kind cannot have   
friends, but we can have true enemies." Klarth nodded simply.  
  
"Yes... You shall find your Ameray, Tergan his Lensan, Gerith   
his Rorian, and Verl, Verl shall find Sandere and together, after I   
have found Mena, we shall rule again. The Five will not win this   
time." Klarth's inhuman grin widened to reveal sharpened teeth and   
Frouth, Frouth laughed softly in complete agreement.  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Yea, due to several emails from a certain author and friend   
*ahem*, I've been motivated to finsih this chapter. Reviews work just as well.  
Oh yeah, if you email me please put something in the sbuject line like the   
title, etc so I can identify it as fan mail. With all these blasted viruses   
going around I can't open any unidentified email. Thanks for understanding!   
See ya guys! ;) 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply, as always...LOL Enjoy ch 3.  
web page: http://www.geocities.com/keitree  
email: inspiredthoughts@hotmail.com  
  
Please Review! =)  
  
Names Index:  
Serena-Serenais  
Selenity-Selenai  
Lita-Leinta  
Rei-Rhi  
Mina-Minka  
Ami-Aimes  
  
Darien-Darius  
Kunzite-Kunzath  
Nephrite-Nepran  
Jadite-Jadreth  
Zoicite-Zaite  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Nightmares Chapter 3~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Serenais watched her mother, face calm, but inside oh how she   
seethed with emotion! Queen Selenai paced her currently empty council   
chambers as her daughter stared. She was dressed in a plain dress,   
silver and white velvet, and wore only her circlet on her brow,   
instead of her typically heavier crown. The Queen's pale hands were   
clasped in front of her breast and her brow was furrowed as colorless   
lips murmured softly to themselves. Selenai looked up once, met her   
daughter's deep cerulean gaze, and looked away, mouth tightening.   
  
"You can't do it mother, you need me here, with you, if not as   
your child then as your heir." Selenai fought tears and shook her   
head with denial, with a mother's irrational denial.  
  
"No Serenais... If there's a war coming, and if the Sleeping   
Ones are awake then I guarantee you there will be a war, then you, as   
my heir and not just my daughter, must be kept safe. Our country   
cannot survive without you." Serenais took one impassioned step   
forward as her mother turned her back to her only daughter's pleas.  
  
"It did before Mother! Before we were Roshana and Bleserd   
our countries were one and we did not rule! I will not flee into the   
countryside. I will not abandon my people..." Serenais took another   
forward step and grabbed her mother's cold hands with her own warm   
ones.  
  
"I will not abandon you." Queen Selenai sighed and once again   
met her daughter's earnest eyes. She reached up and cupped her   
child's cheek with her palm before leaning forward and kissing the   
Princess's forehead.   
  
"You won't be abandoning your people, you shall be going to   
them." Selenai swallowed. "I'm sending you to the Defensive Mounts.   
They'll protect you, my little Princess. The regular army will stay   
here, in the capital, with me. If... if I should fall you will rule   
our people. You're right Serenais, we did not always rule this   
country, we earned it, and we will not give it up without a fight!"   
Serenais looked up at her mother, her calm, serene, wise mother, and   
fought back her own tears. Serenais flung her arms around her mother,   
embraced her with all her might, and prayed, feverently, that she   
would see her again.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
Rhi sighed and stretched from the desk where she had been   
keeping up accounts for the household, as restless as she had been   
since that night, two faithful days ago, when darkness had gripped her   
heart and squeezed. She wasn't her mother... she didn't have that   
kind of power, but something was coming... something that kept her   
awake at night. She was feverently glad that Bourne had yet to return   
from Roshana and his bi-monthly 'business' trip.   
  
Walaw cried pitifully and jumped down from a plush   
accompanying chair to mew at her mistress. The small black cat,   
purring loudly, wove herself around Rhi's legs, yowling imperiously as   
her brother watched placidly from the plush rug in front of the   
fireplace. Rhi knelt, scratched behind Walaw's ears to placate her,   
and clicked for Waerl. The big tom sighed and rose with a stretch   
that mirrored Rhi's before strolling over. She scooped him up and he   
growled, displeased with the indignity inherent in being a comfort   
animal.   
  
The two black cats had shown up on the servant's kitchen   
entrance several years ago, soon after she had married Bourne. By a   
flux Rhi had been there, interviewing new help, when the kittens were   
discovered. Bourne's steward had wanted to dispose of the 'nuisances'   
but Rhi, feeling lonely, isolated, withdrawn in a house devoid of   
affection, of anything at all but money and prestige, had opposed   
vehemently, and had taken the two for pets.   
  
Bourne had thrown a temper tantrum aiken to a child's pure   
fury but Rhi, Rhi had stooped and pleaded, to appease his little boy's   
mind, and had been able to keep the felines. To keep Walaw who was   
all black and Waerl whose ebony fur was marred by a splash of white   
across his broad breast.  
  
In times of trouble, in times of pain, in times like now, of   
uncertainty, they were her staunchest companions, her only friends in   
this world she lived in, as a stranger, a world of intrigues, and   
politics. She dropped the tom and he settled next to his restless   
sister, absently grooming and regrooming his fur as he watched her out   
of the corner of sky blue eyes.   
  
Rhi rose and, cold despite the roaring fire in the cozy   
office, rubbed shivering arms and jumped when there was a tentative   
knock on the thick door. Rhi gathered her velvet robe around her   
slender form and answered it. Bourne's disapproving manservant stood   
at the door, formal in the house livery.  
  
"A message for you, Lady Rhiana." Rhi glared at the man and   
he stared, deadpanned, back, with an emotionless gray gaze. With a sigh   
she held out one slender wristed hand.   
  
"Let's have it then Geffry." Geffry hesitated for one moment   
too long, long enough for Rhi to curl her crimson painted nails in   
frustration, before he bowed and acquiesced, pulling the 'message'   
from his breast pocket.  
  
She stared at the ebony feather, a thing so dark it rivaled   
obsidian, so dark it was dull, so dark it held currents of violet and   
aquamarine. Walaw and Waerl, silent now, came and sat at her feet,   
two pairs of eyes calmly watching the feather, one slitted gaze green,  
one sparkling blue. Rhi, pale fingers trembling, took the precious   
fragile thing from the manservant.   
  
"Thank you Geffry," she said shortly. The man bowed mockingly   
and turned on one polished heel. The door swung closed behind him,   
leaving Rhi there alone, stroking the feather from her mother's raven   
companion with an absent caress. It was a call, a command, it meant   
one thing, demanded one thing, that she come home.   
  
Rhi lifted the single feather to pale lips and kissed it,   
smelling on it her mother's perfume, and the slightly musty warm smell   
that accompanied Jerice, her mother's raven. It was quiet in the   
room, so quiet that Rhi could hear the muffled sounds of Cook   
preparing dinner, and two maids bickering a hall away. She looked   
down at her own two companions, recognizing for the first time that   
they were indeed more than pets, than friends, they were companions,   
companions like Jerice, like all the other animals who willingly   
decided to spend their lives with one of the Landless.  
  
Walaw blinked and Waerl's bushy tail twitched with feline   
amusement. A smile, not borne of happiness, but of sheer relief,   
curved Rhi's lips upwards, transforming her somewhat severe face into   
something truly beautiful. "Home..." she whispered as she clutched   
the feather so close it almost snapped. "Home..."  
  
Home to a family that she hadn't seen in decades, home to a   
life of vagrancy, if there was any hope for life at all, for the   
feather was an emergency signal... Her mother would have never sent   
the message if something dire, something that threatened the future of   
the world, wasn't in the works. Because Rhi's line was destined for,   
if not greatness then notoriety. Her people knew and if it was not   
Rhi who was marked by Fate then it was her not yet conceived   
children. But if Rhen had called her daughter, her beloved abandoned   
daughter, then Fate had made its will clear, and it had named unlucky   
Rhi as its earthly tool.  
  
Rhi laughed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nepran sipped the hot coffee from a crude clay mug as he gazed   
at the campfire, surrounded by men and women he had long called   
friends, though they could never be friends in the true sense of the   
word. He was accepted as much as any outsider could be but he would   
always inherently be that, an outsider. The Landless were a close   
knit family. One could not gain entrance into that esteemed clan with   
merit alone, though he had enough of that in their eyes.  
  
After all, he bred the finest horses in the countries of   
Bleserd or Roshana, and each time he brought a string through he   
almost always parted with one of his number when he met the   
Landless. It was a small price to pay, or give, for they demanded no   
such payment from him. They were a proud people, despite their   
inherent poverty, or perhaps because of it... They did not accept   
gifts.  
  
Yet they accepted his fillies, his gelded colts... Those who   
were too shy, to sweet, to slow, to imperfect in one physical feature   
to be a mount for the Defensive Mounts, Bleserd's famed cavalry and   
Nepran's chief patron, almost his only patron since few others could   
afford his prices. They accepted his horses and in return he had yet   
to be attacked by bandits on his journey... or numerous other   
tragedies that could befall a lone traveler with precious cargo.   
Their legendary 'luck' protected them, and their close affiliation  
with the bandits kept them from harm, and thus him. He wore a black   
bandanna around his arm at all times... It identified him as a ward of   
the Landless... there were few enough that people who knew what it   
meant generally took notice.  
  
Rhen got his attention by placing one light hand on his   
shoulder. He turned and rose, greeting her with a large smile that   
she returned, albeit smaller in size. She was a beautiful lady, a   
dangerous lady, and he did not use the word lady lightly. She dressed   
brightly, like all her people did, in vibrant colors and flashy   
clothes. She wore jewelry, lots of it, but tastefully... She did   
everything with style, a style all her own, but style. Her hair was   
loose, free, and reached almost to her feet. Rhen was not a young   
woman but visages of beauty were still apparent, her features were too   
strong to ever truly fade with age. You ignored her face, her raven   
hair unstreaked yet with age, when you saw her eyes. They were   
violet, amethyst, and something that spoke of power, all rolled into   
one. You could loose yourself in them if you weren't careful...  
  
Nepran was very, very careful.  
  
"Hallo stranger," she said as she sat beside him at the fire.   
Stranger was a double edge sword. "It's been awhile." He smiled and   
nodded in mute agreement.   
  
"Aye Lady, it has..." Her mouth tightened at the title but   
she did not reprimand him, he'd been calling her that for years. She   
only sighed and stared into the flames, face pensive, more unguarded   
then he had yet to see in the leader of the Landless.  
  
"Do you plan to move on to Bleserd?" He raised dark brows,   
obvious questions were uncommon for Rhen but he answered anyway,   
warily.  
  
"Yes, tomorrow morning." Rhen rose in one fluid motion and   
let her dark eyes match his for one fire filled moment. He shivered.   
Oh, how she burned inside...  
  
"I'd recommend waiting several days..." Nepran waited,   
knowing, in some obscure way, that there was more to the puzzle...   
"I've sent for my daughter," another pause, "You shall always have our   
hospitality Nepran." Rhen turned on her heel then and left, leaving   
him studying her thoughtfully. Perhaps it was best to wait a few   
days... It wasn't the first time that he had delayed his journey into   
Bleserd. He lifted the mug once again to his lips and finished the   
coffee off.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Minka pulled her dark shawl closer and drew the fragrant red   
rose tightly to her breast before throwing it on top of the hundreds   
that covered the dark casket of the late King Trennan. She watched,   
solemn, as the funeral procession filed by, and only raised her bowed   
head to see the newly crowned King of Roshanna, King Darius.   
  
He rode in an open, gilded coach pulled by two perfectly   
matched ebony stallions behind the casket. No one looked at the  
trappings though, all eyes turned to the royalty that now ruled them.   
Silence spread like plague as he swept slowly by, even the sobs and   
wailing of the grieved populace was muffled. Darius was not a monster   
in the eyes of Roshana, he was a boy, an untrained, untested boy, and   
he looked the part.   
  
He was a year older than Minka's mature seventeen but he still   
looked like a young child. His face was noble, defined, but not yet   
as defined as it would be when it reached true adulthood. His boyish   
earnest blue eyes stood out, startling, framed by hair so black it was   
almost blue as well. His expression had yet to achieve the hardened   
mask of true monarchs... there was too much earnestness, idealism in   
him to inspire confidence. His fine dress and carriage only   
emphasized his childishness, instead of lessening it.   
  
King Trennan had been worshipped by his people, for all the   
qualities his son had yet to develop or show. Perhaps, given time,   
the young King could acquire some of the greatness of his father. If   
he had time. Minka swallowed as she suddenly thought of the darkness   
that had gripped her those few days ago.   
  
King Darius's gaze settled and met her own hardened, bitter   
blue eyes. His strong, full mouth tightened in a slight echo of   
recognition, not that Minka had ever served her new King, once Prince,   
in the profession she was currently employed. No, Darius had never   
frequented Nobility's Escape, as a customer. He had as a child   
though. He and Minka had spent hours playing war and dolls and hide   
and seek in the private, spacious back rooms of the brothel, while   
King Trennan had been visiting Malda, owner of Nobility's Escape.   
  
Malda had not served any customer for almost thirty years,   
ever since she opened Nobility's Escape, since King Trennan had funded   
it. It was not unseemly for a man of great power or royalty to keep a   
discreet mistress. Malda had been such a woman, when both she and   
Trennan were young, before he even married. After his political   
marriage he had kept his relationship with Malda, had been hers   
faithfully after his wife's death and Darius's birth. If he had been   
a commoner, or Malda nobility, then they would have married for sure.   
They would have grown old together, happily in love, Minka knew that.  
  
Not that they hadn't found happiness with each other. Even as   
Malda had aged, gracefully granted, but aged through forty years as   
Trennan's lover he had never accepted another to his bed save his   
wife. Rank held them apart to some extent but nothing stopped Trennan   
from giving Malda enough money to open her own brothel, or from making   
it such a respectable place that no one but nobility frequented there,   
or from continuing to visit Malda several times a year.  
  
It was during such visits that Minka and Darius had played.   
Trennan recognized the necessity of social classes but he never looked   
down on those who earned their living with their hands, or their   
bodies. Minka's own mother had been an employee at Nobility's   
Escape. She, a frail yet stunningly beautiful woman, had died when   
Minka was several years old. Malda had kept her, had raised Minka as   
her own quasi daughter. It had been Minka's choice to stay and become   
one of the women at Nobility's Escape. Malda could have easily   
married her off to a farmer in the country or small store owner in the   
city, but what kind of life would that have been?  
  
A life without joy, without purpose, chained, helpless, to a   
mere man. Her mind flinched away from the memory of the one man she   
had almost willing chained herself to... Women had few real legal   
rights in Roshana, especially low classed women. Here, at Nobility's   
Escape, she led a comfortable life, pampered, adored, but also   
intelligent lively... She was learned, well spoken, and well   
mannered. The first was due to her own interest in reading, the   
second from spending hours with nobles, the third because their   
customers demanded no less. Besides, Minka had one advantage few   
women of her situation did... she had future security.   
  
When Malda had finally yielded to the realization that Minka   
would stay in her adoptive mother's profession, Malda had begun to   
groom her for the day that she would step down, or pass away. When   
Malda left Minka would take over Nobility's Escape, and all its   
considerable assets. The idea pleased her, though she hoped for   
Malda's sake that it happened none too soon.  
  
Darius broke his gaze away first and Minka smiled, sadly. She   
was not here to honor Trennan's memory. She had never known her past   
King, but to honor Malda's love of him. Her adoptive mother hadn't   
stopped crying since word had spread of her beloved's death. Malda   
would recover, in time, of that Minka had not doubt. But she was not   
yet ready to face the stark reality of Trennan's death, not yet ready   
to see his coffin, or to see the boy who had once played in her rooms   
crowned King.   
  
So Minka had come instead.  
  
Darius rode past, eyes deliberately resting anywhere in the   
crowd but on Minka's face. She watched him intently until he passed.   
A richly cloaked man in midnight blue rode behind the coach on a white   
stallion. He was dressed almost as fine as Darius but unlike the   
King, this man was no child. He rode tall, with a fierce maturity in   
his posture that caught one's attention subtlety, and held it. One   
well-shaped hand rested warily on the sword strapped around his trim   
waist, its scabbard worn from use, though well decorated.   
  
Minka met his gaze briefly and felt herself smile faintly.   
There was nothing of Darius's idealism or earnestness in eyes too pale   
to truly be called sapphire. Perhaps they were ice, or fire, or some   
pale, silver cross between the two that burned as it froze. She did   
not recognize the man but then, she had not seen Darius in years. The   
man nodded simply to her, with a condescending arrogance that was well   
familiar in royalty and nobility, a smirk tugging on features too   
hawkish to ever be called handsome.   
  
Then the man rode past as well; ashen hair swirling behind him   
like a cape as his horse's hooves kicked up a flurry of rose petals.   
Minka sighed and let go of the breath that she had unconsciously been   
holding. She looked down at her clasped hands and expelled a slightly   
more exasperated breath when she saw the myriad of cuts the thorns had   
made when she had clung tightly to the rose, before she had thrown it   
onto King Trennan's casket.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Author's Notes: Long time, no update, I know. Let's just say that   
college applications stink and leave it at that... well that and I'm   
trying not to have a nervous, stress induced breakdown... *laughs   
quickly* Umm, I believe that's all!  
C-ya'll, Kei 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes and Disclaimers: Hope ya'll have had a good couple of   
weeks... Drop me a review!  
inspiredthoughts@hotmail.com  
http://www.geocities.com/keitree  
  
Standard disclaimers apply  
  
Name Index:  
Serena-Serenais  
Selenity-Selenai  
Lita-Leinta  
Rei-Rhi  
Mina-Minka  
Ami-Aimes  
  
Darien-Darius  
Kunzite-Kunzath  
Nephrite-Nepran  
Jadite-Jadreth  
Zoicite-Zaite  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Nightmares Chapter Four~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
  
"I don't understand Valan, why you?" Her lover grimaced and turned   
away from her words, angry beyond reason at her questioning.   
"Leinta, just leave it be! Accept that I was sent for and that I will   
go!" She hated it when he spoke to her like that, like she was a   
child, and not the woman that shared his blankets and guarded his back   
in a fight. She glared and let her hands ball into fists at her   
sides.  
  
"Why damn it! You're good Valan, I'll give you that, but you're not   
the best, not by a damn long shot. Why would the Queen request you,   
specifically?" Valan's jaw clenched and he wore the black look he   
always did when she crossed some unspoken but always understood line.   
He stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes flashing, before he   
made a visible effort to clam himself.   
  
"Leave it be Leinta. Leave it be." There was warning in the   
undertones of his deep voice and she sometimes wondered if he knew   
how truly frightening he was sometimes. Valan wasn't a physically   
imposing man, not by any means. He was well built, of average height   
and weight, though more lean than most. His face was agreeable, in a   
rugged battered way that matched many of his fellows. His hair was a   
sable mass that was several shades darker than her light auburn.   
There was nothing outwardly fierce about him, nothing, besides his   
scars, that would suggest a fighter's life. But his eyes...  
  
People feared him for the depth of those intensely black eyes. He   
never meant to frighten but when he turned the full power of them upon   
someone few could withstand their strength. Leinta was one of a hardy   
few. She loved a challenge, and bitter Valan, bitter-loving Valan was   
most definitely that. He was so tender, so passionate in a way that   
roused her nature even as it confounded her because, she loved him but   
it was the love of the moment, not a lifetime, and he knew it. He   
held her so tight sometimes she wanted to weep.  
  
But Valan was a man and men glorified in secrets, in shadows. He was   
nearly twice her age, a fighter nearing the end of his prime, while   
Leinta was just now entering hers. He treated her as an equal; it   
rarely mattered that he was thirty-three and she was a mature   
nineteen, except for times like this... When Leinta discovered traces   
of his past and dug...  
  
"How would the Queen know you Valan?" He fumed and she knew, had she   
been any other, he might have struck her, but she was his partner.   
She knew his every strength, his every weakness, and one move that   
caught him flat on his back, panting, every time she used it on him.   
The Defensive Mounts were a well-trained military unit, but a well   
trained, disciplined group used to settling arguments with brawls.   
Valan had never had a reason to restrain his fists with his fellows,   
but Leinta, who had endured her share of black eyes from group fights,   
refused to sport bruises given by her lover. The one time he had lost   
his temper, when she had pushed him too hard about some trivial   
question and he had tried to slap her, she had whirled and in the   
blink of an eye he had gone from the aggressor to the victim... As   
Leinta straddled his chest and toyed with a dagger, face clam, eyes   
furious.  
  
He did not strike her but he did try to intimidate her by placing   
himself nose to nose with her, letting the full force of his satanical   
gaze rest on her light brown eyes. "Don't push," Valan repeated   
roughly, low voice full of carefully restrained anger. "I was called   
and I shall go." Leinta stared at him, speculatively, for a moment,   
before laughing with something that sounded nothing like amusement.  
  
"You know her, Queen Selenai." It had been a guess but, once said, it   
had the ring of truth, truth echoed by a flash of alarm in Valan's   
face, before he managed to render his features into a mask of barely   
reined fury.  
  
"How?" Leinta insisted, against even her own better judgment. Valan   
growled and she knew that she had struck a nerve; eagerly, she   
continued, with little concern for her own safety.  
  
"You served in the Palace Guards, didn't you?" Valan's eyes   
brightened for a moment, flared with some inner memory before fading   
again to that charcoal darkness. He set his jaw against answering her   
and Leinta rested her fists against her well-shaped hips as she   
waited, impatiently, for her lover to break the acid silence.   
Finally, something within Valan's face broke and he grimaced before   
stepping back, his anger still there but less dangerous, less   
fearsome.   
  
"The Royal Guards." Leinta raised surprised brows. It was one thing   
to be part of the Palace Guards, men whose duty was to protect the   
inner city of Blanchant, Bleserd's capital, it was another thing   
entirely to be accepted to the Royal Guards, elite of the elite, who   
protected, not the city, but the heart of the city, the royal family,   
from harm. Valan swallowed before continuing.  
  
"I... I was sent for because I used to be one of the Royal Guards."   
Leinta narrowed a piercing green gaze and pursed her lips,   
speculatively.   
  
"Very well lover, that explains why you were called and how you know   
Queen Selenai, but it doesn't explain why you are not longer part of   
the Royal Guards, and why you are a farmer's brat's lover in the   
rugged mountains that separate Bleserd and Roshana."  
  
"And if that's one secret I don't wish to reveal before I leave   
Leinta?" Valan demanded, face suddenly pinched, tired. She wasn't   
fooled, there was more.  
  
"Valan?" She made a question, and a demand, of his name as she   
stepped forward to put one steely grip on his arm. He tensed under   
her touch and flinched.  
  
"Valan...  
  
"Valan, I've shared your bed for two years, been under your command   
for three. I've killed grown men and made it in a profession that   
discourages women. I'm not a child. We're not in love, not like soul   
mates, I'm not fool enough to even dream of that... but we have   
something solid, something real. You can turn your back in a fight   
because I will always be there, always, until you send me away. But   
until you do, what sort of man am I protecting Valan? What sort of   
man am I holding in my arms at night? Who are you Valan? Who?"   
  
His gaze wavered and broke before hers. He leaned forward, kissed her   
brow, smoothed back curls with roughened hands, and touched his   
forehead with hers. There might have been tears in his eyes but   
Leinta wasn't sure. She was suddenly afraid of the response she knew   
was coming, the answer to her questions, but she didn't know how to   
stop it... How to stop him, after she'd broken his protective walls.   
When he finally, for the last time, answered her question his voice   
was broken, detached, cold. She was no longer beloved; she was no   
longer loved. He would tell her his secrets but he had closed himself   
to her.   
  
"I am the man you have known for three years. But I am also a father,   
and fathers have duties." Silence held them there, for another   
moment, before Valan rose to his full height. He stared at her, gaze   
sad but assured. He would not change his mind.  
  
"Goodbye Leinta," he said softly before he picked up his pack and   
left. He didn't have to send her away, he had sent himself. Numb   
legs brought Leinta to the blankets they had shared that morning. She   
sunk onto them, face a careful blank. She mourned his loss already,   
not deep mourning, but grief none the less, for the man who had taught   
her so much. She ached, but she was also reeling. Her pain would be   
temporary, that Leinta knew, but her astonishment, her bafflement, her   
disbelief...  
  
The Queen had sent for Valan because he was Serenais's father.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Verl, King of the Five Kings, breathed deeply, smelled the earth as it   
had become, and smiled. He stood in a redwood's shadow in a forest so   
overgrown that little darknesses bled into each other and formed one   
huge blanket that covered the entirety of the forest itself. It was   
warm here, with a hint of heavy mists and the coming of winter.   
  
Verl placed on hand, palm down, against the rough bark of the   
redwood. The trees weren't part of a darkness that he was used to.   
They were vibrant, alive, and despite the faint uneasiness the forest   
created it was nothing... nothing... and would be nothing the moment   
he reclaimed what was his.   
  
Before trees, before grasses, before humans, he had walked. And where   
he and his fellows had trod, the earth had bled red. The ground had   
been molten, and rivers had steamed. Verl had come before time,   
before life, and he had been master of that hell. And he would be   
master of it again.   
  
Fingers curled, became claws, and gouged deeply into the heart of the   
trunk. Warm sap oozed sluggishly from the wounds he had rent as it   
slowly covered his hand. Verl curled the hand into a fist and gazed   
at it a moment before looking up, golden eyes finding the sapphire   
blue of the sky. And for a moment the blue warped, changed, and   
became cerulean eyes... Innocent eyes...  
  
A man stared at him sadly, even as he bled from the wounds Verl had   
inflicted upon both his body and his soul. His clothes, once white,   
were muddied, torn, unrecognizable. The face, beautiful and masculine   
at the same time was serene, despite the cuts, and the burns. Singed   
hair, more golden than Verl's eyes, caught the breeze, bringing him   
the man's scent; strength, vitality, life.   
  
"Sandere..." The name escaped from curled lips, through fangs that   
promised death to all who dared breath. And then the image was gone.  
  
Verl blinked, sighed, and uncurled his fists, his control once more   
absolute. The wind touched him, brought him the smells of this new   
world that had sprung from the ashes of His, while they had slumbered,   
helpless to stop it... The Sleeping Ones...  
  
There was more than just life in the air though, more than   
civilization, there was something else... Traces, trails, lines of   
spider silk... The Five were alive... They flashed before him, those   
who had banished him and his to eternal sleep, for not even the Five   
had possessed the power to serve them death. Four men and one woman,   
Five who had ruled just as absolutely as they...   
  
They had not been the heroes that the world of today had imagined.   
Heroes didn't exist in that time. All who survived were marked by a   
certain amount of tempered cruelty, by blood stained hands. There   
were no true innocents, except for perhaps Sandere.  
  
Verl knelt and scooped up a fistful of the earth. The ground teemed   
green and rich browns but even as he held it, it withered, died at his   
touch. He hissed in a frightening version of laughter. This earth   
remembered him, remembered his rule. It feared him, and it had   
reason. He stood again and cast the gray dirt down.   
  
He placed his palm once more against the redwood and smiled,   
terrifyingly.   
  
The forest froze and turned to stone between this breath and the   
next. The grass and leaves withered, died, and became ash as the   
mighty oaks and redwoods hardened and died, bare branches entreating   
heaven for aid. Birds, wolves, and bears cried out and flared, each   
one a brief burst of flame that left nothing but oily smoke in its   
wake.  
  
With a thought Verl levitated and rose above the tortured treetops.   
He surveyed his work and chuckled. He saluted the barely visible   
castles of Roshana and Bleserd before reclaiming his place among the   
clouds. He had sent his message. The next time he touched the ground   
it would be to celebrate more than revenge, it would be to toast the   
Sleeping One's bloody triumph. This land would die, burn, and once   
more be His.  
  
  
  
~Kei 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Hi. I'm back. Long time no see huh? New, new, never before   
seen chapters can be found at my website...  
  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Nightmares: Chapter Five~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
For once Zaite did not have to quiet his men. Uneasy, disturbed,   
hushed silence reigned as they rode through the desolate land.   
Spirit's Wood was bare, stripped of life, dead in a sense that went   
farther than that which was opposite of life. Their spooked mount's   
hooves kicked up ash as stone trunks towered over them and spread   
equally dead branches up overhead, like skeletons.   
  
They plodded onward by grim accord, faces set, scarred souls horrified   
by the utter desolation laid waste to a land that had been teeming   
only a week before. Zaite had seen what Spirit's Wood had looked like   
when he had stood on one of the balconies of Roshana's Palace to   
receive orders from General Kunzath, a man so cold most of the men   
feared him. Where there had once been green had existed only gray... a   
depressing powdery gray that stood out on the border shared between   
Roshana and Bleserd like a festering wound.  
  
Perhaps the new King Darius had refused to believe what his eyes told   
him... perhaps General Kunzath had refused to believe the evidence as   
well... Zaite hadn't needed to set foot in this doomed place to tell   
his superiors that this had been the work of the Sleeping Ones... Of   
one of the Five Lords of Nightmares, perhaps THE Lord of Nightmares.   
What other being could kill a forest with his touch?   
  
There would be no keeping the news from the common people now... Not   
when they could stand upon a hill and see the tangible evidence of the   
Sleeping Ones' awakening in the dark promise of Spirit's Wood. Chaos   
would ensue. Memories were vague of the rule of the Sleeping Ones but   
there seemed to be an instinctual fear passed on, generation to   
generation. Even babes feared the Lords of Nightmares.   
  
The armies had quietly been massed and orders given. Roshana was   
ready for battle, silently poised, but ready. Soldiers knew that the   
wild rumors running through the country were true and were forbidden,   
on threat of a traitor's death, from saying or hinting at anything,   
even to their own families.  
  
There would be panic and Zaite shuddered. He had seen a mob once, had   
seen a child crushed beneath an uncaring people's heels. Imagine if a   
whole country panicked, if two did, for Bleserd would share in   
Roshana's fate. They had been one country centuries past, one country   
which had been the birth of the Five, humanity's saviors. One country   
split in two but together they would, had to, face whatever wrath the   
Sleeping Ones wished to inflict.   
  
For once Zaite was feverishly glad that he was an orphan and that he   
had no wife, or children. He doubted that few would survive the time  
of trouble that was coming. Coming soon, so soon. For from the   
slopes of the gentle mountains which had once been covered with a   
carpet of trees, now dead, a line of clouds, dark, dirty, stretched   
across the horizon, over the sea, as far as the eyes could see. There   
was nothing natural about that line of menace, nothing natural,   
nothing comforting. They promised death, instinct as old as   
humanity's birth told Zaite that, and would tell any other who looked   
at them.   
  
"Come on men," he barked, "full speed back to Rosha." The men stared   
at him quietly, faces shuttered, closed. Finally one urged his mount   
forward, met Zaite's piercing green gaze and looked quickly away.  
  
"Sir," Jamus said softly, "we was wondering... Only a fool would be   
blind not ta see what's there, not to know the rumors are truth.   
There's no point in going back. Bleserd's just on the other side of   
those mountains and the passes are still open..." Zaite winced. He   
had not thought that it would come to this so quickly. He did not   
chide his man. Normally such comments would force charges of treason,  
or at least court marshal, but Zaite had no intention of reporting   
Jamus or any of the others who were looking towards the border with   
longing, not in the face of the Sleeping Ones.   
  
"And you think they won't take Bleserd as well Jamus? We were one   
country when we defeated them last. Why should Bleserd be safer?"   
Rone, a young man, broke through the ranks, fear plainer on his   
untrained face than the others.  
  
"Fine then," he said sharply, loudly, "what about the lands beyond?"   
Zaite simply looked at him, coolly.   
  
"And after they conquer our lands, where will they turn? The Sleeping   
Ones owned the world Rone, why should they settle for less now? If we   
must die wouldn't you rather die a hero than a traitor?" Rone broke   
eye contact first and Jamus spoke again.  
  
"Then is it so sure, that we will die?" Zaite gave the soldier   
credit, his voice never wavered. His men were not cowards but even   
kings trembled before the power of the Sleeping Ones.  
  
"No," Zaite replied. "There was no hope before, and then the Five   
came. They triumphed, and we live because of them..."  
  
"The Five are dead..."  
  
"Yes,' Zaite replied swiftly, softly, "but perhaps their spirits live   
on. Do you truly think that we will vanish into darkness, into   
eternal night, without a fight? Come, we must ride." He kicked his   
mount and the horse, only to glad to be rid of a place that whispered   
of newly created ghosts, galloped away. Zaite did not look back until   
he cleared the skeletal forest but when he did all him men were behind   
him, white faced, more frightened than he had ever seen them and they   
were tough men, but behind him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Aimes stifled a yawn and gripped the pommel of her mount's saddle to   
catch her balance. Jadreth looked over, face concerned. "You sure   
you're all right?" he asked. Aimes nodded gamely and smiled, though   
it was pained.   
  
"Yes," she replied softly. "I've never ridden a horse before. While   
I find the experience interesting I'd probably enjoy it a lot more if   
I didn't do it for fourteen hours each day." Jadreth winced and   
dropped back from his position as lead on the road.  
  
"Lady Aimes, I am sorry... If there was any other way..." Aimes   
leaned over and patted his arm awkwardly before returning her death   
grip on the pommel.   
  
"I know Captain, I know. I've seen the shadows of the Sleeping Ones,   
felt them grip my heart." Roshana, Darius needed him, the expelled   
prince, the tarnished knight, the fallen angel, the bloodied hero. "I   
do not chide your haste, I only wish I was more able to accommodate   
you." Jadreth smiled and bowed slightly in his saddle.   
  
"My Lady, your presence is accommodation enough." He did not say the   
rest, what his frank blue eyes managed to convey, but Aimes knew.   
Knew he feared what he was returning to. Knew he saw his princedom as   
a trap, a cage, a gilded cage but a cage none the less. Knew he had   
made bitter enemies before he had renounced his birthright. Knew he   
had not seen his cousin since he was a boy and was afraid of what kind   
of man he had become. Knew how much he hated politics and intrigue.   
Knew how he longed for the ocean with all of his soul. Knew how he   
felt like he was abandoning his ship, his crew, but knew, just as   
innately, that he had no other choice.   
  
They had been on the road three long weeks. In that time Aimes had   
seen more of Roshana than she had ever dreamed of, ever wished to.   
She herself longed for Ocean's Love with an intensity that frightened   
her. She missed her home and she too felt like she was abandoning   
something, her people, the men and women and children that she had   
cared for all her life. They would need her, in the coming weeks,   
months, years. They would need her if, when the Sleeping Ones came.   
They would need her and she would not be there because someone,   
something, needed her more.   
  
The need, unexplained, undefined, drew her to Roshana, bound her to   
the man she rode beside. Her fate was linked, at least in part, with   
his. Aimes had never been a big believer in destiny, in   
predestination, but something pulled her from the safety of the only   
home she had ever known. Something demanded her presence, demanded   
her allegiance. Something demanded her strength. Her full mouth   
thinned, hardened, and she closed cerulean eyes, biting back a weary   
sigh.  
  
"Is it truly necessary, that I wear this?" she asked in a way of   
breaking the uneasy silence that had descended between them.   
Jadreth's eyes traveled the length of her breeches, loose peasant   
shirt, and flowing, coarse cloak before nodding emphatically. He was   
dressed much the same way, though slightly better.   
  
"Yes," he replied shortly, without elaboration.   
  
"I'm not a child Captain," Aimes snapped tiredly. "I know the pain   
that can befall an undefended woman. I know why the girls are sent to   
collect crabs and drift wood when a ship docks at Ocean's Love. I am   
a healer." Jadreth's face softened and it was his turn to lean over   
and offer comfort.   
  
"You shall never be undefended Lady, as long as I draw breath, but as   
skilled as I may be with a sword or dagger I fear a group of bandits   
would overpower even me. Its safer to appear a man, at least for   
now. We'll be in Rosha soon, no more than another four days of hard   
travel and we'll be at the city gates." Aimes nodded and smiled.  
  
"Four days," she repeated softly, for strength. Jadreth nodded   
encouragingly and urged his steed ahead of Aimes's dainty mare. They   
continued onward.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Rhi slipped through the alley ways of Brenith, a large mining town   
that sprawled at the base of the mountains that separated Bleserd and   
Roshana, though the town itself was within Bleserd's borders. Walaw   
and Waerl trailed silently behind her, moving shadows outlined with   
splashes of dirty white fur. She moved silently, unseen, unnoticed, a   
temporary blemish against the brick and stone of the building walls   
she followed.   
  
She passed taverns, inns, and bars. Walaw or Waerl left her   
temporarily to scavenge for scraps of food. Rhi couldn't afford to   
feed them; she could barely afford to feed herself but then, they were   
true Landless animals... they did not need her charity. She had not   
taken much from her home the night she had slipped away. Her wedding   
ring glinted dully on one finger and she curled her hands into fists   
as she moved swiftly.  
  
Her long hair was unbound, a free waterfall of ebony that reached down   
her back. She wore the clothes of a peasant but the material was   
finer, colors brighter. She only lacked true jewelry but then, that   
would impede her movement and Rhi, unlike her people, was a practical   
woman. Growing up the daughter of a merchant and the wife of a noble   
had taught her the expediancy of that.  
  
She would be home soon, another week's travel, perhaps. Rhi's heart   
soared at the thought. She had not her mother's magic, Fate had seen   
to deny her that much, but she had enough to know where her people   
were. They called to her, pulled her by her weary soul towards their   
own. Slender fingers stroked the feather tied securely to her vest   
and Rhi sighed as she leaned against a cool brick wall.  
  
She looked up, into the night sky, and couldn't quite contain the   
shiver that ran down her body as fat snowflakes fell from the   
heavens. She'd need to either buy or steal a cloak before she went   
into the mountains. Hopefully she wouldn't freeze before she found   
her family. 


End file.
